Home for the Holidays
As I may have let on in my last post, (and in this one) my romantical whirlwind appears to have tornadoed out of control and the tidy, sparkly future that was gifted to me out of the blue was wrenched devastatingly back out of my grasp.
Single to engaged and back again. I don’t think a year has ever left me so bewildered. And believe you me, I’ve had some baffling, incomprehensible years that left me dizzy as a Skip-It (remember Skip-It? So fun! At least, until you accidentally bashed it against your ankle like a horrible pink mace). And worse than the brokenheartedness and general confusion, the whole debacle left me feeling more unsure of my own instincts than I’ve ever been.
Fortunately, the Christmas Holiday arrived just in time for me to come home to the place I’m sure of and lean on the people who leave me with no doubt that I am loved to bits.
My coping mechanism when dealing with grief is to throw myself into my work and schedule my life so full that I don’t have time to dwell on things that are beyond my control. So the prospect of two weeks vacation in my quiet little hometown made me a little nervous.
It turns out though, that the magic of family and home was exactly what I needed. For the first time that I can remember, instead of trying to outrun my sadness, I let it wash over me in little waves, my soul anchored steady by home, drawing strength and comfort from every cozy little corner, familiar texture, every colour I know by heart.
Home gave me something to be sure of when nothing else seems certain.